The Makings of a Ballad
by Keldan
Summary: Deekin Scalesinger is a published author, a... good enough musician, an accomplished public speaker, and a kobold. He keeps company with an irreverent halfelven monk. Sounds like an adventure to me. [Things are starting to pick up. Huzzah!]
1. The Requisite Introductions

This would be my first NWN fic, unless you count one small drabble featuring a certain kobold bard that I wrote a while ago. (I didn't post that. Heh.) But anyway, it centers largely on the aforementioned bard; it will also have a little Valen/PC lovin', since I do so like Valen, but Deekin doesn't get enough attention besides going "You knows me too well, Boss!" and such. So here's my tribute to the little guy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights or any of the characters except for the PC, and even then I only really own her name and personality. Y'know, as far as those sorts of things can be owned.

_A good entrance is crucial—no story is a true story without a dramatic transport spell. That said, don't describe the sparkles too much. It makes it sound girly._

--Better Ballads and Literary Devices, by Harry Slickmeister

The life of the Drow guard had, up until a small incident in the former temple of Llolth in the Drow city of Lith'Myathar, been largely uneventful.

He had only just recently joined the Eilstraee-followers and their Seer; late enough that he had not seen any of their major battles. He had been placed with a senior soldier guarding the inside of the temple in hopes that he would be safe there, and if there were an attack he would be a reinforcement for protecting the Seer.

He had been minding his own business, trying to surreptiously adjust his codpiece behind a pillar, when there was a blinding flash of light and a large crack of displaced air in the middle of the temple floor. His eyes widened, as he realized somewhat belatedly that he had a heart condition. He realized this rather crucial piece of information too late because, as his brain wrapped itself around the idea, he had a sharp pain in his left arm and fell to the ground.

The last thing he heard before blacking out and then blacking even farther out to the Great Beyond was a small, raspy, almost scaly voice saying, "Uh, Deekin thinks we not be in Undermountain anymore, Boss."

Later, they would find the poor, nameless guard slumped against a pillar on the perimeter of the room, his hand still stuck in his codpiece.

-----------

"That poor man," murmured Pellana Cain as they carried the guard away. "I didn't realize teleportation spells caused heart failure." They were standing near the pillar her had died behind, watching two other men struggle to lift him.

"At least he wasn't caughts with his pants completely down, right, Boss?" asked her faithful kobold companion, one Deekin Scalesinger. He grinned a toothy grin up at the half-elf. He nudged her in the knee with his elbow, and his lute jangled slightly as he moved.

"Deekin, we shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Although that was a really bad position to die in..." she nearly snickered, but restrained herself just in time to straighten her face as Nathyrra approached them.

"So now you know everything," she said when she was close enough, white teeth flashing against dusky black skin. "The Valsharess, her Archdevil, everything. What we're doing here is very important."

"Very," Deekin said, looking up at her. "Me and Boss be looking forward to the adventure," he added.

Nathyrra arched a single white brow at the kobold. "Fighting a powerful Drow conqueror and her bound Archdevil is something to 'look forward to'?"

"Yep!" said Deekin, and left it at that. Nathyrra looked at Pellana, perhaps seeking some explanation. "Yep!" said Pellana, and grinned at her.

Nathyrra looked like she was about to say something, then thought better of it. There was a slightly awkward silence.

"So tell me about this Valsharess," Pellana said in more sober tones after a moment. "Valsharess means 'empress' in the Drow tongue, right?"

"How did you know?" asked Nathyrra, somewhat surprised.

Pellana shrugged. "I grew up in a monastery. Not much to do in one of those besides beat up on combat dummies and read books."

"I see," said Nathyrra, and raised one brow again. That was obviously a signature look for her. "Well, the Valsharess started out as any other Matron Mother... ruthless and powerful, but no more so than any other. Then somehow she managed to gain control of the Archdevil Mephistopheles... clearly, that is how she has managed to conquer as many as she has."

"Ah, yes, the old 'bind a creature that's far more powerful than you and use it until it turns against you in some fashion and kills you in a horrible bloody manner' trick," said Pellana. "I hear that villains use that one a lot."

"... indeed." Nathyrra became aware that Deekin, who had grown tired of standing around waiting for Pellana to finish talking, was standing in front of a certain tall, red-headed warrior across the floor from them. Her eyes widened and she waved at Pellana to get her attention. "You may wish to restrain your friend," she said. "Before Valen does it for you." Pellana turned to see what was happening.

"Is you part goat?" Deekin was asking. Pellana was confused for a moment before she looked at Valen's head and saw two slightly curled, brown horns protruding from his head. She looked down and her attention was drawn to the long, barbed, whip-like tail behind him. Clearly, Valen was a tiefling. And an annoyed one, judging from the twitching of said tail. Pellana started sidling over towards the two, trying to appear nonchalant.

"No, I am not. Are you part iguana?" the tiefling asked, staring down at Deekin with a scowl.

"What be an iguana?" asked Deeking, clearly interested but oblivious to the tiefling's ill humour.

"It's a large lizard from the jungles of Chult," said Pellana, before Valen could reply. "Deekin, I think, er, Valen I think Nathyrra said, doesn't want to be bothered. Really doesn't want to be bothered," she added as Valen turned his scowl on her. He made an attempt to soften his expression, and succeeded, but only somewhat.

"You are the Seer's champion, then?" he asked, eyeing her. "Where are your weapons?"

"I don't need weapons," she said, and raised a calloused hand. "I only need these. Monks only like people to think they can't fight, until they've gotten a rabbit punch to the throat and a kick to the groin."

Valen raised both eyebrows in a mildly surprised expression. "Very vivid imagery," he commented. "Very well, then, Champion. I hope you're as good as the Seer thinks you are. For all our sakes."

"Well, I think I am. I hope I am." She made a thoughtful expression. "Without blowing my own battle-horn, I'm fairly good at what I do."

"Boss be best at everything!" Deekin chimed in. Valen turned the surprised look on him, then back to Pellana.

"Well, maybe not _everything_," she said, grinning and making an attempt at a humble expression at the same time. She wasn't sure what a humble expression would entail, but she tried anyway. Just as Valen was about to reply, a servant approached and interrupted with an apologetic look on his face. "My lady, your rooms are ready. If you will follow me...?"

Pellana nodded, smiled at Valen, and followed the servant. Deekin skipped after her, saying, "Deekin will gets to sing the Doom Song lots on this adventure!"

Nathyrra walked up to Valen and they both watched the two walk away. "A very strange pair," she finally remarked.

"Indeed," he replied.

"I hope they're enough to help us."

"Indeed," he replied again.

"I hope she's enough to make you say more than 'indeed'," she added, and walked off. He looked after her and scowled. "I don't think that will ever happen," he muttered at her back.

It was his favorite word, after all.


	2. Supplies and Seasickness

Thanks again for the reviews, you guys. (Or rather, you two.) I hope you like this installment as well!

_The most boring parts of an adventure are often the most underdeveloped. No one really wants to read about buying food, even though they know it's necessary; even reality buffs find it dull. Striking a fine balance between too much information and too little is important, but be sure to keep detailed records of everything anyway. Remember Lily Kellers' famous faux pas in her well-known novel _Killing Karth_, in which she stated that her heroine bought seven bolts of _cloth_ instead of seven bolts. Is a nice sage green velvet going to do much against a crazed battleaxe murderer? I don't think so._

--Ten Steps to a Better Legend, by Alyra Hassenfeffen

Deekin awoke late the next morning (or at least he assumed it was morning; it was so hard to tell down here). He had gorged himself on the small dinner a servant had brought to their rooms last night, although the unidentifiable meat had been a bit stringy. Pellana, who was a vegetarian, had picked at her helping of various fungi but hadn't seemed very satisfied. Perhaps a few days of having little to eat would encourage her to try to eat more mushrooms.

Pellana herself was already out of bed, as she had been every morning since Deekin had known her. Yawning and stretching so hard he fell out of his bed, Deekin went about his morning routine. This involved getting up, picking at his teeth a little with one claw, gathering up his lute and pack, making sure he had enough quills and ink, and walking out the door.

He found Pellana by going out a side door of the temple. Emerging into what looked like a practice court, he walked around the perimeter until he saw her. She was practicing, as she always did when she got up.

First she went through every move slowly, like a dancer, making a roundhouse kick look more like a ballet maneuver. Then she sped up until she was moving faster than he could follow. Deekin always liked to watch her practice, when she didn't have a monster trying to rip her throat out. It made her seem more dramatic, like a true hero. And Deekin loved true heroes.

Today, however, he wasn't the only one watching Pellana go through her various moves. Valen stood off to one side, making no effort to hide the fact that he was sizing her up. Deekin sidled over to him.

"She be impressive, yeah?" he asked the tiefling.

Valen shrugged noncommittally. "I suppose so. She's fast, I'll give her that. But I don't see how she can do any respectable damage using only her fists."

"Boss be…" Deekin struggled to remember the words, "Oh yeah! Boss be 'at one with herself, uniting mind and body in a never-endings quest for self-discovery and enlightenment.' Or somethings like that."

"I see," Valen said, looking down at the kobold for the first time since he'd approached. There was an ironic tinge to his voice. Then again, there was always an ironic tinge to it. "And what are you supposed to be?"

"Deekin be kobold bard!" Deekin grinned, revealing sharp teeth. "Maybe even first of his kind!"

Valen was about to answer when a voice said, "Heya, Deekin. And Valen! Glad to see ya." The tiefling looked up and saw Pellana.

"Good morning," he said politely.

"How can you tell, anyway? It's so dark down here I don't even know if I'm coming or going." Pellana picked up her cloak and used it to wipe a sheen of sweat from her face. She had on her traveling clothes, which were in bad shape after their trip through Undermoutain. Small rips and tears were all through the cloth and dust, dirt, and other grime had worked itself into the weave in some parts.

"I can't," said Valen simply. "After a while your body adjusts and simply takes on its own cycle."

"Well, then, I'll just have to wait I suppose," replied Pellana. She looked at Deekin. "We're going to have to buy some things, Deekin. You don't have to come if you don't want to, Valen," she added. "I'm sure it's much too boring for a big General like you." She grinned.

Valen smirked and replied, "The best General pays close attention to his soldiers' supplies. I'll come."

Pellana threw a salute to him and marched off. Deekin skipped behind.

The market turned out to be mostly empty of useful goods. The advancement of the Valsharess had tightened the economy, and so only a few merchants were still selling their wares. Pellana and Deekin perused the foodstuffs while Valen made his way over to the armory to see what was available.

"Wish there wasn't so much _fungus_ around here," Pellana remarked, eyeing the various mushrooms with distaste. "Never have been one to eat much of it…"

"Maybe Boss became vegetarian too soon?" suggested Deekin.

"Unfortunately I didn't know I would be going to the Underdark, where it seems the only decent food is meat." She sighed. "But then, I made that decision years ago, so it wouldn't do me much good if I had known anyway." Deekin handed her a Bag of Holding and she started stuffing food into it. Deekin stood on tiptoe to hand a bit of gold to the merchant, who looked like he was wondering if he was hallucinating.

The pair eventually wandered over to a Drow that had the look of a mage. As Deekin eyed the various "never-dry" quills enviously, Pellana dug through a trunk of magical robes. Valen walked up just as Pellana emerged from the pile of clothes with a triumphant "Aha!"

The wizard, whose name was Gulhrys, raised one eyebrow as he turned to the half-elf. "How much for this?" she asked, holding out a simple black robe with a dark blue trim around the cuffs.

The wizard took the garment and examined it for a moment, then said, "Five thousand gold."

"Thirty-five hundred," replied Pellana quickly.

"Forty-five hundred."

"Four thousand."

Gulhrys stared at her for a moment. "Done," he said. Pellana grinned again and handed him the gold, and he gave back the garment.

"That be some pretty fancy proverbial footwork, Boss," remarked Deekin as the three strolled away, Pellana running her fingers over her prize.

"Nothing to it, really, Deekin. All you have to do is pay attention to the numbers," she replied. "This has a powerful enchantment on it, though, I'm lucky to have gotten it for such a low price. I'll have to do some adjustments, though…"

"Maybe Deekin can help?" asked Deekin eagerly.

"Umm…" Pellana looked sheepish. "Maybe next time Deekin… last time you tried to help me sew you got so many pin pricks you nearly lost a finger."

"Oh, yeah." Deekin remembered that all too well. "Oh, well, it just gives Deekin more time to work on book."

"See you two later," said the half-elf; Valen was still following them silently. She ran off in the direction of the temple, leaving the kobold and the tiefling standing in the square.

Valen looked down at Deekin and said, "She sews, does she?"

Deekin nodded. "Boss be good at everything!" he repeated.

Valen sighed.

"So you say this 'Isle of the Maker' is a good place to look for allies against the Valsharess?" asked Pellana later.

"That is what I said, yes," replied Valen from beside her. They were standing at the prow of the boat, listening to Deekin retch over the side. As it turned out, water travel did not agree with the kobold, as excited as he had been at the prospect of it.

Pellana made a concerned sound and looked over at Deekin, or rather, at the back end of Deekin, as he was flopped over the railing. "I hope it's worth it…"

"I'm sure it will be."

The half-elf tugged at the hem of her new outfit. She had done more than make a few adjustments to it—she had created an entirely new outfit of it. Cutting the fabric without disrupting the enchantment had been tricky, but she was pleased with the results; after all, no one could really fight with a huge robe flopping over their ankles. Pants were much more comfortable.

"We are nearing the island," hissed the strange boatman, and the three companions turned as one to look at the mass of gray rock rising out of the shadows, Deekin blinking his bleary eyes rapidly to see.

"The Isle of the Maker," said Valen, somewhat unnecessarily.

"That was dramatic," Pellana said after a few moments of letting it sink in.

Valen smirked. "I'm told being dramatic is somewhat of a specialty of mine."

"As long as you don't let it get in the way of having a good time, I don't mind," said Pellana, and beamed at him. "Adventures are fun!" She stepped onto the gangplank as it lowered.

Valen blinked and said, "I… suppose they are." Recovered, he shrugged and walked off the ship.

Deekin groaned and followed, attempting to make notes on what it felt like to vomit so much your lungs flopped up your throat and into the dirt.


End file.
